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Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Chefs! |
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TV sugar-coats the truth about the chef lifestyle
If you happen to read the Food section in the Union-Tribune, you’ll know that I’m a new dad of, in my eyes, the most beautiful baby boy: Huntington “Hunter” O’Neil “Cowboy Boots” Malarkey. They were sweet enough to print his birth announcement on the front page and give a shout-out to my mentor and dear friend, Bernard Guillas of the Marine Room for throwing the “ultra swank” baby shower.
Now that the dust has settled — or I should say, the diapers have been changed — and the sleepless nights in San Diego are in full force, I’ve started to daydream about my baby boy’s future and what he may decide to do with his life. Friends are always asking me: Is he is going to be the next great chef? Is he going to work in the restaurant business with you? Chef Works, our local chef clothing company, even sent over a baby chef coat with his initials on it, and you know what? Without hesitation, not even a flicker, a flash or a flame, would I ever let my boy grow up to be a chef!
You see, today the whole chef thing is hyped up and glorified: the Food Network, Bravo, Travel, NBC — all of them have these shows that are making celebrities out of chefs and line cooks, but they are not telling the whole story — shall we say they are “sugar-coating the truth.”
The truth is this business is extremely demanding. Neither the conditions nor the pay are any good. Small, hot kitchens, chefs screaming, hot oil, steam burns, broken equipment, slippery floors, sharp knives, 12-hour days, drunken nights, raw flesh and working on holidays when everyone else is home with loved ones. The whole business has a bit of a Charles Bukowski persona, a bit of sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll — without the glory. For every chef you’ve heard of, there are a thousand who will be broken down in the knees, flipping burgers for snot-nose kids at a second-rate country club in a far-off suburb, whose orders include stocking the vending machines with high-fructose syrup-laden fat. Oh the glory!
Now don’t get me wrong, I love the gig. Every day I get to paint a new canvas, create and taste. It’s a full-flavored profession! But it’s not what I wish for my kid ...
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be chefs.
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Reader Comments:
I too would hope our daughter doesn't follow in my footsteps of becoming a chef. I made the decision to quit my profession and become a stay at home mom the day our daughter was born and I am thankful for every minute I spend with her.
Before motherhood I was incredibly passionate about the art of cooking and didn't mind the long hours so much. But the terrible pay, drugs, alcoholics, transients wait staff and 16 hour days on holidays were tough.
I definitely think all these reality show's and the food network glorify the job of a chef. However, it's entertaining none the less.
If you really want to know what it's like working in a professional kitchen read the book Kitchen Confidential.